


Black Velvet

by guiltyhousewife



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Grooming, Mildly Dubious Consent, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyhousewife/pseuds/guiltyhousewife
Summary: Ariel grows up in a little farming town but desperately wants to go to the big city. When she hears that Ursula -- chastised by the religious town for 'improper' berhaviour -- is moving, she begs the woman to take her too. Ursula agrees, for a price: Ariel must work for the bar that her friend owns. Ariel doesn't care and signs the contract, only to find when she gets there that it's actually some seedy strip club -- but she's signed the contract and can't back out now. She meets Eric when he's bought there by friends for his 21st birthday and it's love at first sight, but can he rescue her?tl;dr: AU where Ariel is a country girl longing for the city but gets caught up in the seedy underworld instead.
Relationships: Ariel/Eric (Disney), Ariel/Ursula (Disney)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Amid the busy and dusty work of overseeing the movers (Lord knows she wouldn't actually do it herself, heaven forbid) Ursula Catamier finds a moment to inspect her reflection in a mirror recently taken down and propped against the wall, resplendent in early morning light from the open door.

Mounds of bleached-white-blonde hair tucked up with a purposeful air of abstraction into a purple silk turban, a gold brooch holding the whole piece together.

Large, dark eyes with even larger white-tipped fake eyelashes.

A large mouth carved prominent in dark red lipstick.

And her matching purple silk and gold robe with silk sandals.

So what if her waistline was harder to restrain in her expensive and eccentric clothes? So what if her skin didn't lay as tight on her bones as it used to?

She was still a powerful woman, she preened, who made a powerful first impression.

For a day she was more or less being forced out of her home, Ursula felt triumphant. It amused her that all the little townsfolk had finally took action on the long whispered fears of her, of her mansion procured by invisible wealth, of her dramatic outfits and long red nails, of her antique shop displaying arcane and wiccan items to the slack-jawed Christian youths of the town, of the accusations of growing poison in yard (well, that one was true)...

She liked the fear, the gossip, the rumors and infamy. She'd muse and titter about it all the way on her flight to Atlanta.

"Excuse me? Um...Mrs Catamier?"

Ursula looked up from her own reflection to see a vision of a girl, backlit from the outdoor light behind her, standing in her open entranceway.

Petite, shorter than Ursula, definitely, with all the tightness and and softness of enviable youth in its prime. A sweet, open face, with round, blue eyes and creamy skin framed by a waterfall of bright, auburn hair. A backpack was slung across her shoulder, clothed in an oversized, emerald sweater from one of the local colleges, in tiny little jeans and ivory ballet flats.

Ursula's mood took a souring dip as her ego was forced to confront the picture of forever-unattainable (at least for a second time) youthful-beauty.

Her careful eye, however, observed how the girl only poked her head in, how she overflowed in quick apologies when a mover went to go past her, how her face looked awkward and hopeful as she waited for Ursula to acknowledge her.

So she was lacking in confidence and self possession. Good, that gave Ursula the upper hand; she had both in spades.

"The one and only, but please Dear-heart, Auntie Ursula will do just fine."

The girl laughed in relief, but still hung in the doorway, restrained in a quaint way from entering a stranger's house without permission.

"Auntie Ursula," she corrected in a shy voice.

Ursula's eyes lit up as she approached the girl in recognition.

"I know you; I've seen you swimming quietly up and down the aisles of my curios, haven't I?"

Ariel blushed.

"Yes, I'm sorry I haven't been able to buy anything, but my Daddy keeps a tight reign on what I can and cannot buy, and he would never approve of any of those things."

Ursula smiled, amused, and the girl backtracked, realizing her insinuation.

"Not that any of its bad!" she insisted, "Oh, I'd love to get a hold of some of those books, or peek into one of those trunks..." She went on enthusiastically.

"Well if you're in the buying market, dearie, I'm afraid you've caught me at an inopportune time." She spread her arms wide, dramatically illustrating her half-empty home. "I'm packing up shop."

"Oh, no, no, I know, I know, it's just that, well..." She hesitated, before changing her mind and throwing her hand out for Ursula. "I'm sorry, that's so terribly rude of me, taking up your time without introducing myself first. My name is Ariel."

Ursula took the girls hand, encompassing palm and digits in her own larger, bejeweled hand.

"My my my, THE Ariel Dawson? I should be so honored to have the mayor's daughter in my humble abode."

Ariel's face scrunched in confusion.

"How do you know who I am?"

Ursula gave a rich, throaty chuckle.

"Angel-face, it's a town of barely a hundred people, and it's not often you get a name like Ariel south of the Mason Dixon anyway. That's a foreign, name, I believe, Hebrew, if I'm not mistaken. (And I'm not)"

"Well my mother was more interested in foreign cultures like I am, she was the one who named me."

Her face paused for a moment in a place of introspective sadness. Ah yes, Ursula remembered, the mayor's wife was killed in that car accident years ago. Pity.

"So," Ursula pressed, "You were saying something about a favor Auntie Ursula could provide?"

Ariel came out of it, and looked up eagerly, though timid once more.

"Oh yes, I was wondering...You're going to the city, right?"

Ursula laughed at how everyone this far South believed there was one and only city.

"Atlanta, dear, yes."

"That must be incredibly exciting. I've lived here my whole life, all my sisters have. They married here, had children here and homes of their own here. But I'd love to see a real city, with different cultures and experiences and brand new people." Her eyes practically sparkled when she spoke of it.

Ursula's eyebrow lifted and her lips twisted as she caught the drift of the conversation.

"Annnnd?" she coaxed.

"Well I was hoping," the girl mumbled as she looked down and twisted her fingers together anxiously, "that maybe...that maybe I could go with you?" she spoke in a rush, watching Ursula's face now for disapproval. "I mean, I can pay my own way, at least my plane ticket, and I'm sure I could get a job there and support myself, I just need someone who knows what they're doing, where they're going, to go with." She finished and looked up hopefully.

Ursula wished she could have seen Ariel's face next, but Ursula turned her back when replying with a firm,

"Oh, I'm afraid not. I'm not really the babysitting-type."

The idea of taking a young little tag-along with her back to Atlanta! Ursula would be far too busy. Though, it would be a good laugh to see that big self-righteous Triton's face bubble up red when he realized his favorite daughter escaped his isolating clutches. But again, much too much of a burden to take on.

Her heard popped up one more time, this time, for a sound.

"Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell  
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high"

It was coming from outside. Sweet and soft, yet emphatic notes sung quiet and sad.

Peering around the door, she located the source.

Ariel was still there, sitting at the end of the driveway, drawing in the dirt with a discarded stick as she sang, unaware of an audience.

"Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder  
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky"

That voice...that voice was astounding. Like a bell on a church spire, like the youngest of angels, earnest and innocent and lovely. A voice like that was worth something, worth attention, notice, or, perhaps, Ursula thought with a personal grin, harvesting.

"Black velvet and that little boy's smile  
Black velvet with that slow southern style"

Ursula sang in her rich, brassy, deep voice.

Ariel spun around, surprised.

"Alannah Myles? You've got a taste for soul, little princess."

Ariel looked up bewildered,the forgotten tears still evident in her lashes and on her cheeks.

Ursula put Ariel's small chin in her hand, turning her head up at an even sharper angle.

"It was a compliment, hun, some people would appreciate that."

"Oh! Thank you."

"Well I meant it, of course. You like to sing?"

"I love to sing." Ariel agreed passionately.

"Well then I think you and I can come to an agreement," She pulled Ariel to her feet in one effortless move.

She brought her back into her house and sat her down on her lounger.

"You may or may not have heard from your little friends, but I actually have quite a successful business waiting for me back home in Atlanta."

"What sort of business?"

Ursula couldn't manage the suppress the ironic smile.

"Entertainment." She left it at that and pressed forward impatiently. "If you could still use a traveling guide and even a place to stay, I could use some new talent. In exchange for working for me, you'd get of course some small amount of play-money, but also free board and meals and whatever else you may need."

Ariel looked at her in open disbelief.

"Are you sure? I mean, that's so amazing!"

"Your voice is amazing dear. But is that a yes or no? Come on, now, I'm a busy woman and we'd be leaving tomorrow night."

Ariel hesitated for all of about three seconds, before professing her absolute acceptance and gratitude.

The girl was naive.

Ursula knew the content's of the girl's brain just as surely as she knew the contents of her own accounts. Blind lust, not for the physical, but for experience, for a romantic life, for idealistic adventure, for thrills and wonder, seeing only the dissatisfaction with her life now and not the possible perils on the path ahead. Which suited Ursula just fine; pliable, she could use.


	2. Chapter 2

The trip was dynamic, to say the least.

For all her boundless enthusiasm for experience, Ariel did possess a certain amount of trepidation stepping onto that plane, her big blue eyes flicking up and down the body of the plane, naively seeking Urusla's hand for comfort.

She barely got to the boarding gate in the first place; Ursula had to lead the gawking tourist by the hand and with gentle little shoves past everything that caught her eye: the sweaty little hamburgers in brightly colored wrappers, the jumble of airport security officers, the fountain bejeweled with abandoned coins...

Of course, Ursula did buy her some select things she silently pleaded for with her eyes. She had no objective reason for the little trinkets she placed on Ariel's neck and in her hands. She wasn't a surrogate mother, that was for sure, no matter how the girl misconstrued her affectionate nicknames and free-handling.

Rather, the gifts and praise were functioning in a different manner for Ursula. She was slowly but surely weaving the girl tighter around her fingers, the pretty, glittery thing, like a little pocket posession.

Ursula's eyes could find opportunity most anywhere, even in a backwoods, immature young girl like Ariel. Her keen eyes missed nothing, the luring sweetness of the girl's voice, demonstrated in the way the taxi driver that took them from the airport almost ran a red light whipping his head around when Ariel sang for Ursula again in the backseat, in the way loud-chattering tourists on the sidewalks of the Underground stopped and gawked as Ariel trilled along to a song wafting from a restaurant door...

She noticed too, the full sweep of the girl's beauty. With cool appraisal she noted the way the pale apple breasts lay in a soft line from her slender neck, her tiny waist and naturally-reddened lips. For an apparent virgin, she caught many a man's eye.

So when she tucked the girl in that night with a swift, meaningless peck on her forehead into her very own bed, knowing she herself would far too busy that night to sleep, it was not out of any real affection.

The young girl, this Ariel, was exhausted from a day being treated to Ursula by a nonstop ride of experience: racing through Museums, swimming backstage into concerts, riding elevators to the top of every building, and putting her little lily hands on every piece of clothing in every shop.

Without any restriction of self consciousness, she threw herself into gentle sleep, sinking into Ursula's plum sheets. Her smile stayed with her as she slumbered, no doubt dreaming of Ursula's promises of visits to The Georgia Aquarium, the Olympic Park, and the Botannical Garden.

Yes, Ursula would act as whatever the girl needed her to be, teacher, mother, friend. But after the girl was made a follower to pleasure, become dependent and desperate to maintain this rich life so starkly contrasted to the bleached, barren fields of her childhood, Ursula would wind that final string, and the girl would being to earn her keep, and pay back Ursula's careful investment.

The Sea Cave could always use another "mermaid", after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Mint and lavender lighting swirling like oil in the air, across it's glass floor and up it's vaulted, black ceilings. The green stage with it's multiple levels, it's maroon curtains piled like sleeping beasts on the side. The booths, great-clam constructions, the contrast of hammered black steel and purple cushions. The music, dark-lipped artists whispering ironic promises of pleasure laced with pain, the sudden abrupt blast of a trumpet and the slam of a wailing voice.

Ursula closed her eyes and smiled.

The Sea Cave, the best club on the strip, because it was hers.

The club unafraid to offend, to unsettle, to coerce its patrons into feeling what they wanted them to feel, to make them foolish and sloppy on pleasure.

As she waved and called to her favorite men and women, she knew all this lush and exotic excellence around would go unnoticed at first by Ariel trailing behind her, because she knew the small town girl's eyes would only see the girls.

The naked girls.

Or rather, the mostly naked girls.

Beauties of all shapes and sizes, indiscriminate in hiring women with unusual and and striking features, strutting around with vague smiles, tall heels, and nothing on their bodies save thick paint in a wide array of colors, made to look like fish, like heels, like every manner of sea-life. The girls made to look like mermaids, legs sporting bright green stockings, tiny shells pasted onto their nipples, hair entwined with ribbon made to look like seaweed, were the class-A girls, the performers, the women who combined the fortune of their looks and voice to put on a show no one else save Ursula was ballsy enough to give.

Ursula couldn't resist picking the girl's chin back up and giving her cheek a pat.

"Now now honey, any more gawking and I'll have to charge you."

Ariel blushed furiously and averted her eyes to the floor.

"Oh Auntie Ursula, I'm not sure..."

Ursula expected this, this guaranteed clash of life with principle, and smoothly took back control.

"Oh now don't worry your pretty little head, my dear, of course I'll be starting you out as a simple waitress..."

Ariel was led away by one of Ursula's workers, thankfully clothed, left to ponder the "starting" portion of Ursula's assurances.


	4. Chapter 4

Life at the Sea Cave had changed her, forever.

The Ariel who had walked with hesitant steps into the seedy playground a month ago was not the same girl who now ran a brush through her hair quickly and efficiently as some last minute touch ups for her third solo performance this week.

Ariel had become one of the main "mermaids" in Ursula's club, and Ursula was beyond gleeful at the reception her pet-project was getting.

The other girls were divas, stars, or rather, those who didn't make it and harbored the bitterness of being crammed into a smaller stage than their ambitions lusted after.

Ariel was not like that, not all. She didn't know stardom; she barely knew its name. Her ambition wasn't for the voice she was gifted with. Her heart, her hopes, soared above in wordless arches above the rafters, above the limitation of money and notoriety. When she sang, she sang because the beauty of her vocal instrument pleased itself in sharing. She sang to soothe, to self-joy.

Ursula knew these differences shone out in her performances. People were drawn from the dim circles of self interest and were forced into blithe self-introspection. Ursula chose the songs for the girl carefully: no curse words or suggestive phrases would sully her lips; the charm lie in her innocence, her impossible romance, and so her songs were complex and haunting things.

Ariel herself was growing, changing.

She shook less, jumped less, but even as she self-composed, her smile retreated, and she took on a mystical, Fae mask in public, expressions of joy and contentment reserved for her own and Ursula's private company.

The woman, this Auntie Ursula, had become everything to her. When the day became to much for her, when she pressed herself against the window of their city-view apartment and choked back sobs as she looked for trees, for green, for home, Ursula was there with soothing, distracting words, warm breasts for her to press her face against, heavy arms to wrap her up in. The glow of Ursula's favor was comfortable.

Setting the brush down, Ariel checked her reflection one more time, hearing the whispered "Ready?" of the stage hand behind her.

Her auburn locks were this time left to float around her in a light, celestial wave, around her bare shoulders. Two ivory cups made to look like seashells were strapped tight across her bust line, lifting her breasts high without covering them. The cold air licked across the sensitive skin of her areolas, the glitter sprinkled there almost redundant.

From the bodice-like top contraption draped green netting to the floor in a dress-shape. In her bare feet, with a glittered face, she felt like something otherworldly, impossible.

The song started, the speakers hidden in the floors, the ceiling and the rafters making it seem like the music was coming from everywhere, even from inside Ariel's soul.

She went with it, carrying the words from her throat and out in the fuzzy world beyond her.

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel  
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel  
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel..."

"It's a new dawn  
It's a new day  
It's a new life  
For me  
And I'm feeling good"

The music broke in a roaring wave from behind her, under her, and across to her enraptured audience and she slid the soft soles of her bare feet forward, spinning round with her arms playing on gravitational bends and flows.

It did feel good, now, this night, this performance, this crowd, this Ariel.

But it didn't always.

Yes, she used to throw up after, yes, she used to cry, yes, she used to writhe in humiliation and awkwardness, but now, she realized the eyes were for her, and in them she found no criticism, no judgment.

The words she would have expected from her conservative hometown weren't spoken here: no one called her a whore, a slut, a disgrace. Here, they were joyous in her joy, and had nothing but appreciation for her and her talent.

Though she paused in her flowing dance now as the lyrics picked back up, her hips still dropped and rose rhythmically along with the music. Ursula had taught her that, the power of a few choice movements of her body, what they could do, how easy it was to be sensual.

"Fish in the sea  
You know how I feel  
River running free  
You know how I feel."

The crowd tonight was a large one for so early in the night, many of the men and women were in suits and gowns, but for what? Ariel wondered as she sang on.

"Blossom on a tree  
You know how I feel..."

No matter what money and cache they walked in with, many were all the same in their lusts.

Lust, that was the only factor in her new life that unsettled Ariel. Her body was hers, and the idea of the men acting on the unspoken desires in their eyes to grab her of the stage, to run their hands through her hair and under clothes, scared her.

"Darling, let them look, let them lust and love you. Use it to your advantage. After all, it's your weapon to wield." Ursula advised her so long ago.

Still...she was disappointed when faces swam from the darkness, hungry eyes, lewd, smug expressions. But she looked beyond them, when their countenances shook her confidante, she looked beyond them to where she knew Ursula surveyed all the in the background. The idea of the woman up there, watching pleased and proud, gave her the strength to go on.

"It's a new dawn  
It's a new day  
It's a new life  
For me  
And I'm feeling good."

Out of all the faces, tonight, looking up at her eagerly on her stage, one caught her eye. It was a handsome, face yes, with the crystal clear blue eyes, the wide, white smile, the viril male strength to its features, but it wasn't the reason Ariel lingered on it.

It was his expression.

No lust, no sexual covetousness, no carefully veiled violent fantasy, no smirk twisted or thickened his face.

Awe, plain awe.

"Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know?"

He was about 35, or so he seemed, and yet, his face was laid open in childish wonder as he looked up at the beauty on the stage. His lips were stretched across a dreamy smile, and his strong shoulders, in their white dress shirt, were relaxed and down. He cocked his head as his eyes and ears followed her across the stage in her choreographed dance.

She caught his eye, and was charmed by the way he slid his eyes down in a flush.

"Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean  
Sleep in peace when day is done  
That's what I mean  
And this old world is a new world  
And a bold world  
For me."

As she finished her set, paused for the appropriate amount of applause, and descended the stage after shrugging into one of the silk, pink robes Ursula bought her, her mind was still on the handsome stranger, and so let out a gasp of surprise when there he stood, at the bottom of the stage stairs in back, where no none but performers were allowed.

"Hi, I'm Eric."

She gaped, unsure what to say.

His voice startled her in how pleasingly earnest, how male and smooth it was. It sounded cultured as well, like he wasn't born in the states.

"Jesus, Eric, I think you scared the poor girl."

Another male, this time a wide grinning, stocky fellow, came from behind Eric, throwing his arm around his shoulder and giving the embarrassed man a shake.

"Sorry babe, my friend here isn't very graceful when it comes to the ladies."

Ariel smiled in relief at some kindness, a smile that disappeared when another one of Eric's friends made his appearance and looked Ariel up and down arrogantly, making her painfully aware of her partial nudity.

"To be fair, Carl, you don't really need grace dealing with strippers."

Ariel flushed miserably at the name, and Eric frowned seeing her reaction, admonishing his friend, "David, that's rude."

"Yeah yeah yeah, Mr. Gentile. How about we continue this party at the bar and we'll find you some other pretty girls to oggle, one's a little more friendly."

The pair of friends dragged their protesting friend away, but not before he broke free and ran back to Ariel, grabbing the girls hands in his own.

"If you're still around at midnight, meet me on the back patio. Please?"

His voice was so earnest and eager, she nodded without thinking, and he beamed her a quick smile before running off to join his friends.


	5. Chapter 5

Ursula was at her desk when she walked into the woman's office and on the phone, though she put her hand over the receiver upon seeing Ariel and graced her with a wide smile.

"Hey there, cupcake, Mama's taking care of some business right now but you help yourself to my dinner, you're still too skinny, dear."

Ariel passed by her to the private table, set with one tall black candle, and two large platters with full Maine lobsters and a slice of cheesecake set off to the side. She still marveled at how Ursula would spare no expense or luxury when it came to her, it made her feel humble, and confused.

Ariel listened to Ursula's fast and slick talking on the phone before the woman hung up and sauntered over, dropping a quick kiss on Ariel's head before tucking into her own generous plate.

"What's the matter, dear, you seem distracted?"

"Auntie Ursula, who are those men?"

She pointed out into the multi-colored darkness, past the glass wall Ursula had installed so she could watch her club at all times, down towards where Eric and his friends were toasting something or another at the bar.

Ursula paused in her vicious cracking open of a meaty claw, and looked out with disinterest.

"Hmmm? Those? Oh, that's the party of Eric Rigsby. They're having a bachelor party, and paid a hefty sum for some special perks and adornments to the package deal," she added with an private chuckle.

"His?" Ariel had to ask.

"No, one of his friends. He's very generous to his friends, very generous indeed."

"Who is he?"

"My my my, you really are my little cloistered pearl. You really don't recognize the name Rigsby? His father, ole Mister Grisby, owns half of downtown, made some big money in real estate."

Ursula's sharp eye caught Ariel's thoughtful gaze and she put down her fork, turning the girl's chin to her.

"None of them have been bothering you, have they, pet? You let ole Auntie Ursula if any man dares to lay a finger on you, and I'll personally see to it they are disemboweled."

Ariel laughed with embarrassment, and waved her hands to the contrary, "No, no, it's nothing like that, Auntie Ursula, I was just curious, that's all."

"Curious hmm?" Ursula's eyes never left the girl's face as she took modest bites of their shared cake, "Curiosity is more of a burden than a charm, dear, remember that."


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you came!"

Ariel had almost not.

Ursula's multiple warnings against men still rang in her ears, were so embedded into her new self. Ursula had purred them, as she brushed Ariel's bright red hair, one of the things she loved best about her charge.

"Now dearheart, I know they may whisper sweet things to you, may pet your little ego and fill your heart with fantasies of romance, but the truth is babycakes, that most of them are animals at their heart, petulant children who only want your body and will discard you like broken costume jewelery when you're dried up and uninteresting."

Ariel had shuddered a little, then, at the finality of Ursula's words, and Ursula had lowered the brush, pressing her cheek against Ariel's from behind and murmuring soothing words.

"But I, won't ever find you uninteresting. You always have me."

But in the end, the rebellion that had sent her to the city in the first place kicked in and she just had to find out the truth for herself, had to find out if that feelings in her stomach and heart had any weight to them, if her intuition was worth anything at all.

Eric took her hand, his eyes full of pleased surprise, and set her down at one of the outdoor tables, setting before a simple glass of wine. Ariel looked at it in surprise, and Eric fumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you probably get enough of that back in there. Here."

He reached behind him and pulled out two frosty sodas in old fashioned bottles, cracking one open on the edge of the table.

He smiled and held one out for her.

Ariel giggled a little, and took it.

There was a bit of a silence as Ariel sipped her drink for something to do, when Eric spoke, clearing his throat.

"I'm glad you came tonight. Sorry if I seemed sort of abrupt earlier. It's just that, well, I was watching you earlier and I couldn't help but be amazed. I had to meet you."

Although his words were flattering, Ariel couldn't help remember the demeaning words of his friend, how her value was reduced to her body. She had dressed modestly, her working hours over, and pulled her pink cardigan tighter over her self consciously.

"Thank you." she murmured politely.

"No, I mean it, I mean, you must get this all the time, but it's gorgeous."

Ariel furrowed her brow.

"My body?"

Eric choked hard on his drink, and Ariel reached forward to pat his back in concern.

He looked up, blushing hard.

"No, no, I mean, yes, but I was meant your voice."

"My voice?"

"Yes, your voice, it's unlike anything I've ever heard. I mean, I've been to hundreds of concerts, and personally know some of today's greatest artists, but your voice, it's a precious commodity."

Something clicked in Ariel's brain as Eric gushed on. Ursula had warned her too against the type of men who wanted to take her away from the Sea Cave, from Ursula, ambitious agents who wanted to use her as a cash cow.

"I'm pretty dedicate to working here, thank you."

Now it was Eric's turn to looked confused.

"Oh, well I assumed so. I'm not trying to recruit you or anything," he laughed, "I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your singing."

My singing.

He said, my singing, Ariel thought. Not my performance, not my show, not my dance. My singing.

"So you brought me out here just to tell me that?" she asked naively.

Eric smiled abashedly. "Yeah, it sounds kind of silly when you put it that way, doesn't it?"

Ariel smiled in return, fully charmed.

"No, not at all."


	7. Chapter 7

The next couple months passed in a pleasurable blur for Ariel. Though her nights still revolved around the Sea Cave and spending time with Ursula, her days were spent on countless dates with Eric Rigsby.

While Ursula treated her to spectacular sights and experiences, Eric and Ariel spent their time in milder, sweeter, simpler ways. For a man of a seemingly endless bank account, he planned dates that revolved around horse and buggy rides through the touristy area of the city, ice skating, paddeboat rides, and walks through the park.

They learned a lot about each other, Ariel sharing her story when prompted endlessly by Eric, Eric telling of his dreams to do more, to see more than the city, to travel and make a living outside of money-exchange.

Ariel was falling, she could feel it. His simple kindness, his plain, honest manners, his old fashioned gentlemanly-habits, all reminded her of home, the part of home she remembered the most fondly. His handsome visage, the way his strong arm draped across her lazily, the feel of his firm hand helping her step down, filled with currents of physical excitement and emotional attachment. He made her feel brand new, clean and simple.

But to serve as a counterpoint to their growing romance came her new tensions with Ursula. At first, Ursula didn't notice Ariel's daytime dates with Eric, the club owner's early hours filled with business matters. Yet she started to notice just how many times Ariel offered excuses to why she couldn't make their brunches and teas, why she wasn't there when Ursula sought out the girl's company for pleasure.

And Ariel had started to find her work trying, enjoying it less and dreading the sun's descent in the sky as a signal for her work to begin. Eric made his disapproval known.

"It's not that I'm judging you, I'm not," he spoke quickly, as he saw Ariel's bottom lip start to stick out defensively, "It's just that, do you really want to do this for the rest of your life?" he asked, exasperated.

"No, of course not. I mean, I don't think so. Look, what choice do I have?"

"You know I've offered time and time again for you come to live with me and my family. You've met them, and they love you. If it bothers you to be living with us rent-free, you could get help out with my sister's singing classes."

"I know, and that sounds wonderful. It's just that... I can't just up and leave."

"Why not?"

How could Ariel explain it to Eric? How could she explain what tied her to The Sea Cave? How it was all she had known since leaving her home, how she was a part of the community of girls there, how Ursula...How Ursula was like a mother to her, how she could tell without knowing how betrayed Ursula would feel if she left, how much she owed the woman. There wasn't an easy way to describe her complicated emotional attachment to Ursula, really.

"I mean, I signed a contract, didn't I?" she offered hesitatingly.

"A contract?" Eric burst, heated now. "You're barely 17, you were 16 when you signed that supposed contract. It's not even legal for you to work there at all."

"Look, can't we talk about something else? How's Sam, your dog?"


	8. Chapter 8

The bomb began it's drop the next Friday night.

Ariel was on stage again, the crowd bursting to the seems. Her fame had spread, and Ursula was raking it in.

She sang, but her heart took no joy in it tonight, worried that she had fought with Eric and Ursula about the same old issue. Eric had made his stand again, pleading with her, telling her he had the means and the bravery to severe her ties himself. He knew the fear in her.

Ursula had finally confronted her about her lies, suspecting a man behind it, as a man was behind all problems in her eyes. She accused Ariel of being naive, foolish, prey to her own youthful heart.

"Jackie left on a cold, dark night  
Telling me he'd be home  
Sailed the seas for a hundred years  
Leaving me all alone  
And I've been dead for twenty years."

The song was a soft one, to signify the last song of the night. In her completely sheer, silver gown, she looked like a goddess, her hair pinned high and complicated and stabbed through with ivory wands.

"I've been washing the sand  
With my ghostly tears  
Searching the shores for my Jackie-oh."

Perhaps it was because the song was a softer one that she heard the argument even over the music, the raised voices. Other eyes traveled up to Ursula's box as Ariel's strove to make out the figures in the glass above.

She stopped singing, and starting worrying, recognizing Ursula and Eric in the same room.

The music kept playing as she ran from the stage without a word to the confused audience.

"I remember the day the young man came  
He said, "Your Jackie's gone  
We got lost in the rain"

They were close to blows, she could tell, by the time she burst in.

"You have no right to keep her here. She's a child for God's sake!"

Ursula was not intimidated by Eric's shouted words and angry proximity, and smiled a nasty smile.

"A child? Well then, princey, what does that make you, a pedophile?"

His face colored instantly, and his fists clenched, and Ariel though it was lucky for Ursula that Eric was too much of a gentleman to ever strike a woman.

"I love her." he insisted, ignoring her harsh laugh."And you, you're playing on the wrong side of the law, here Ursula, and you know it. How many other girls here are underage, Ursula? How many of them did you force into signing a contract with you?"

His words seemed to have struck a cord, and Ursula's smile snapped close. She got in his face, towering over him in both presence and bulk, her black silk robe billowing about her.

"I have NEVER forced any girl to sign with me. They come of their own free will."

"Free will the law doesn't recognize." Eric replied cooly as she stuck her long red fingernails in his face.

"The law can go to hell." Ursula snapped. "I'm above it here, or maybe," she smiled, "below it. Down here in my pleasure cave, the police can't touch me."


	9. Chapter 9

Apparently, obviously, they could.

Even more far reaching than the arms of pleasure where the arms of the law. The following night, with Ariel sobbing and struggling to get past them to Ursula herself, the police raided The Sea Cave, with a grim-faced Eric behind them.

It turned out that more than half of the mermaids were under eighteen, a fact that surprised no one.

Ursula had initially fought when they first arrived, ushering her scantily clad darlings out the back doors and secret exits, pushing papers through the shredder even as they bust down her office door. She cursed them, threw her wine glasses at their heads and arched her neck beyond the police captain's shoulder and spat into Eric's face with all the venom and poison she could muster.

But now she sat cool and quiet atop her marble desk, her legs gracefully folded, a tartan throw draped across her black gown, and watched with otherworldly calm as the police dumped out her file cabinets and desk drawers.

They had deigned to place her in cuffs. Or perhaps were afraid to attempt it. Even in the throes of defeat, the woman was so powerful in presence, in energy, and her gaze was mighty and dangerous. No, they left her to her own, and she listened disinterested and seemingly bored as they read her rights aloud, the charges against her numerated.

Ariel had managed to get into the office now, the chaos passed and breaking free of Eric's protective arms, threw herself on the floor in front of Ursula's feet, wrapping her arms around the older woman's knees.

"Please, please Ursula, forgive me. I didn't want any of this, I didn't-"

Eric went to draw her to her feet, but it was Ursula herself who spoke the cold words.

"Get up."

Shocked by the lack of usual warmth in her tone, Ariel wiped her eyes, and rose. She could feel her bones breaking under Ursula's gaze, and felt more ashamed then than she ever felt bare breasted on that stage.

Ursula said not a word, just looked at Ariel. Disbelief, cynicism, hatred, sadness, all were there in unbearable amounts.

Ariel turned from her, and pleaded with Eric and the police captain.

"Isn't there anyway she doesn't have to go to jail? Oh please don't put her in jail. If there's anything I can do..."

Ursula laughed a harsh, bitter laugh.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about me, Ariel."

Her name, it sounded so purposefully awkward, so painful and icey on Ursula's tongue. Where was dear? Where was sweetheart? Where was baby?

Her heart cracked.

"Oh, Auntie Ursula..."

The baby-name sounded ridiculous voiced aloud, at this time, and Ursula cringed.

"I'm not your Auntie Ursula anymore. I'm not your anything anymore."

"Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl  
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle"

In the car back to Eric's mansion, Ariel cried brokenly, cried brokenly for the mother she lost so many years ago, and the lover and mother she lost today.

In the back of the police car, when she was sure the officers upfront were too caught up in their own conversations to hear her, Ursula allowed herself a few, angry tears, mourning what was once hers to hold.

"Black velvet and that little boy's smile  
Black velvet with that slow southern style  
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees  
Black velvet if you please"


End file.
